Green hope

Ah, green! Returning South after living away for 13-and-a-half years, how I welcome you!

Four of those years, we lived in Indiana. That’s when I discovered something Mississippi and Indiana have in common. Each has a Greenville and a Greenwood.

Further, the two states share this trait with 42 others: All have towns or cities with names beginning “Green.”

As best I can tell from my wanderings around Indiana – and my trusty atlas – the land of the Hoosiers ranks No. 1 in number of Green-named towns. The state has nine: Greenville and Greenwood (the two most-often-chosen “Green” names in the country), Greenfield, Greensboro, Greensburg (also popular nationwide), and (less common but equally interesting) Greencastle, Greendale, Greentown, and Greens Fork.

Rivaling Indiana for the Green title, Ohio boasts eight names. Illinois and Wisconsin tie for third place with seven apiece. Missouri has six. Most other states – including Mississippi – have three or fewer Green names.

I can understand why Nevada and New Mexico have no Green-titled cities. I can guess why the only Green towns in Utah and Wyoming are both called “Green River.” I can picture Green Mountain (in Colorado), Green Valley (in Arizona), Green Pond (in New Jersey), and Green Island (in New York).

But I'm puzzled that the states of the Ohio River Valley – rather than those in the Deep South – claim the bulk of the Green names.

Each year in Indiana, we lived for months with white grass, brown branches and only the dark arms of the evergreens rising to color the picture. Each spring, people trooped back from visits down South, exclaiming, “They already have leaves on the trees!”

Mississippi turns green earlier in spring than Indiana does and stays green later into autumn. So why doesn't Mississippi or Alabama or Georgia have nine or more Green names? Why do Indiana and Ohio and Illinois head the pack?

Maybe a large family named Green settled all across the Midwest. Then again, maybe people in this area appreciate green more than those who see it almost year-round.

Centuries ago, settlers in the Midwest without heated vehicles or centrally heated homes watched eagerly for the coming of the green. Maybe they waited until they thought they’d faint if those new buds didn’t pop out. When the green did arrive, they applauded its magnificence and wrote it into the names of their towns.

What we seldom see, we don’t expect and rarely miss. Thus, realistic desert dwellers don't name their towns Greenfield or Greenleaf. They look for beauty in the sand’s earthy colors and the sky’s brilliant hues.

What's commonplace, we expect, but often taken for granted. People in the north don't generally leap for joy over snow.

But what’s enjoyed – then denied for a season – we count precious. When it’s present, we celebrate. When it’s absent, we watch expectantly for its return. A Midwest town may look like “Brownville” or “Brownwood” six months of the year, yet we still call it the color of life that will one day appear again.

Way back on the third day of creation, “God spoke: ‘Earth, green up! Grow all varieties of seed-bearing plants, Every sort of fruit-bearing tree.’ And there it was. Earth produced green seed-bearing plants, all varieties, And fruit-bearing trees of all sorts. God saw that it was good.”

This summer, regardless the landscape palette where you live, “Oh! May the God of green hope fill you up with joy, fill you up with peace, so that your believing lives, filled with the life-giving energy of the Holy Spirit, will brim over with hope!”

Ah, green! How we welcome you!

© 1997, 2008 Deborah P. Brunt. All rights reserved.

Gen. 1:11-12; Rom. 15:13 (from THE MESSAGE: The Bible in Contemporary Language © 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson. All rights reserved.)